The skies churned with unseen forces, and the great empires, sects, and rulers of Rana World felt an unnatural weight press down upon them. The heavens did not roar. The earth did not shake. There was no sound.
Just an overwhelming silence.
A silence that carried one absolute truth—Shree Yan had arrived.
The Emperor's Despair
In the heart of the Gautam Kingdom, Emperor Rajendra Gautam felt his blood turn to ice.
His hands, once steady with the authority of a thousand years of lineage, now trembled. His golden throne, a symbol of divine right, suddenly felt like nothing more than a fragile piece of wood beneath him.
A deafening whisper echoed in his mind.
"Kneel."
He gasped, his breath stolen by an unseen force. The ministers and generals surrounding him collapsed to their knees, eyes wide with terror. Some clutched their chests, unable to withstand the sheer presence pressing down on them.
Rajendra clenched his teeth. He had ruled with an iron fist, crushed rebellions, and stood against forces beyond mortal comprehension. But this?
This was not something he could fight.
His vision blurred, his body betraying him as he slowly—unwillingly—fell forward.
His knees hit the golden floor of his throne room.
The Emperor of the greatest kingdom had knelt.
And he was not alone.
The Collapse of Sects and Kingdoms
From the towering palaces of the Rai Kingdom to the hidden monasteries of the Ashura Sect, the reaction was the same.
Masters of martial arts, cultivators who had spent centuries refining their power, scholars who had once believed they understood the universe—all were forced to their knees.
Some resisted.
Some tried to stand.
But it was futile.
They could feel it—their very existence, the energy within their souls, did not belong to them anymore. It was no longer under their control. It bent, it twisted, it bowed to a force far greater than their understanding.
The world had not just gained a ruler.
It had gained an absolute sovereign.
Shree Yan Descends
High above, beyond the mortal plane, Shree Yan watched.
His crimson eyes, colder than the void itself, held no emotion as he observed the chaos below. He had not demanded loyalty. He had not asked for devotion.
Yet the world had no choice but to submit.
His form began to descend, each step pulling him from the abyss into the realm of mortals. The fabric of reality trembled as he stepped upon the sacred land of the Gautam Kingdom.
The people who had once cursed his name, who had betrayed and hunted him, now lay prostrated before him.
He did not smile. He did not revel in their suffering.
This was simply the order of things.
His voice, devoid of warmth, carried across the kneeling masses.
"This is the first truth of my reign."
His gaze swept over them, a god observing insects.
"You may struggle. You may resist."
A pause. The weight of his words crushed what little hope remained in their souls.
"But in the end, you will kneel."
The world held its breath.
And then, without mercy—Shree Yan raised his hand.
And kingdoms began to fall.